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​The Rigs Of Rye

This song is by June Tabor and appears on the album Apples (2007).

'Twas in the month of sweet July,
Before the sun had pierced the sky;
Down between two rigs of rye
I heard two lovers talking.

Said he, "Lassie, I must away,
Along with you I cannot stay,
But I've a word or two to say
If you've the time to listen."

"Of your father he takes great care,
Your mother combs your yellow hair;
But your sisters say you'll get no share
If you follow me, a stranger."

"My father may fret and my mother may frown,
My sisters too I do disown;
If they were all dead and below the ground
I would follow you, a stranger."

"Oh lassie, lassie, your portion's small,
Perhaps it may be none at all.
You're not a match for me at all
So go and wed with some other."

The lassie's courage began to fail,
Her rosy cheeks grew wan and pale;
And the tears come trickling down like hail,
Or a heavy shower in the summer.

This lad he being of courage fine,
He's dried her tears and he's kissed her eyes,
Saying, "Weep no more lass, you shall be mine,
I said it all to try you."

This couple they are married now,
And they have bairnies one and two;
And they live in Brechin the winter through,
Aye, and in Montrose in summer.